Altitude bussing >> Travel: Laos, Myanmar, Thailand 34

Nov 7: Night, Vang Vieng

It was a cool morning when we checked out of our nearly deserted guesthouse. Our lady proprietress looked sorry to see us go. As it was rather early, the shops were closed. On the walkway, however, a woman seating on a stool was selling crepes. The smell from her makeshift stall was most tantalising.

As we walked past, our stomachs rumbled, reminding us that we had not had breakfast. The warming aroma of crepes being cooked drew us unerringly to its seller.

She was cooking and sliding piping hot crepes onto strofoam plates for customers to take away. There were a couple of people waiting. We ordered one crepe and joined the waiting queue.

When our turn came, she looked at us and pointed to the various ingredients. We settled for some minced meat and vegetables. A few minutes later, breakfast was ready. We paid up and ate while walking to the bus station. The egg batter which made up the crepe base went very well with our veg-minced meat combination. Wish we had bought another one!

The bus was full when we set off from Phonsavan's dusty station. There were only four foreigners. Two Caucasians sat behind us and started eating breakfast. The other passengers also snacked and chatted. It was a cheerful morning. Soon, we rolled onto the undulating highway hugging the mountains.

The locals started puking.

At a particularly bad stretch, the people in front and opposite us looked really sick. Annie and I offered them medicated oil and the locals realised we were foreigners like the two Caucasians. Even the stoic soldier opposite us, who had been clenching his teeth, trying to control his nausea, took the oil. To our surprise, our tiny bottle passed from hand to hand, up and down the bus.

When it came back, I noticed only a slight dip in the contents. The sick but still thoughtful locals had used the oil most sparingly. Our fellow foreigners were very curious about the medicated oil and took a look at our bottle. Unfortunately, the oil only gave the vomitting passengers temporary relief. They got sick again as our bus hit another winding stretch, wheeling up and down the mountain road.

We foreigners seemed to travel better. When the bus boy went around handing out plastic bags (yes, the bus crew was very prepared for this!), he did not even bother to give us the puke bags. He just smiled at us as he gave out lots of these small bags. The rest were tied in bundles along the hand rails for use later.

A most ominous sign.

The locals were very careful even when sick. They vomitted into the bags and took care not to dirty the bus. When someone did not reach for a bag in time, our bus stopped to clean up the mess. Someone even picked up a few leafy branches to cover the offensive spot and deodorise the interior of our bus.

Thankfully, the invigorating mountain breeze was enough to clear the air and those of us not vomitting could enjoy the rugged scenery.

More disturbing was the way the locals disposed of their rubbish. While we bagged ours, they simply threw their plastic bags out of the windows.

When we stopped for lunch, everyone ate again. I was afraid we would have another puking load of passengers once we went on the road. Fortunately for us, we were finally on flat land and so were spared another round of vomitting.

We reached Vang Vieng in the afternoon.

We are now comfortably ensconed in a simple guesthouse, overlooking an old military runway. It is fairly peaceful, away from, yet within walking distance of, the main drag, where most visitors head for food, drink and entertainment. Just the way we like it.

For some reason, I'm reminded of our 'discovery' last evening. Phonsavan is not merely a one-road, dusty, town after all.

Before dinner and on our last night in town, we took another walk. Walking away from the bus station and past Dok Khoung Guesthouse, we left the main road and veered right.

Another world greeted us.

The scenery transformed into rolling hills and picturesque farmland. And the air was definitely fresher! People were harvesting and threshing grain. A boy was walking his cow home.

The sun was setting, its burnished rays gently warming. We stood and watched the activity on the field. The golden land slowly deepened to a rich orange as the sun dipped lower into the horizon. When the colour faded into night, we reluctantly left to return to our world.

Budget (for two in kip)

Room >> K40,000
Breakfast >> K1,000
Tea >> K13,500
Dinner >> K21,000

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